


Remember Me When You Come Into Your Kingdom

by Rens_Knight



Series: In the Burning of the Light [10]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Literature, Sci-Fi, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-10-07 21:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17373875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rens_Knight/pseuds/Rens_Knight
Summary: Along heretic Sith Lord Tarssus Kallig's two-year path to ascension from slavery to becoming one of the twelve members of the Dark Council overseeing the day-to-day operations of the Sith Empire were many encounters with citizens of both the Empire and the Galactic Republic whose effects lasted long after he had moved on.Now, personalities ranging from a Twi'lek slave dancer on Korriban, an Alderaanian politician scheming with his House to bring his world under the sway of the Empire, and an array of different Imperial soldiers, react to the news that Tarssus Kallig has become Darth Imperius.





	Remember Me When You Come Into Your Kingdom

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I realize I'm spelling the name of the old cult master "incorrectly," but I decided I liked "Palladius" better than "Paladius."  So there. 

  **Star Wars: The Old Republic **

**In the Burning of the Light**

**"Remember Me When You Come Into Your Kingdom"**

 

 

The green Twi'lek dancer stood in the crowd outside the Sith Academy on Korriban, having only earned a reprieve from exhibiting herself before customers because...well, there were no customers at the moment and Zenziri's master was just as eager to watch the procession as she and they were.  Word had traveled unbelievably fast from the Dark Council chambers, just as it had less than two weeks ago when Darth Baras had been struck down.  This time, the defeated was Darth Thanaton.

Imagining the Council without Thanaton--who had only been outlasted by Vowrawn and Marr--seemed almost inconceivable.  Rumor was Thanaton was a former slave, a man who had risen above impossible circumstances...a man who had remade himself utterly, to the point of holding slaves of his own, stripping them of their names, and striking them down if they displeased him.  He had fashioned himself into the epitome of Sith tradition as he understood it, the stalwart ally of Darth Aruk, the Councillor of the Sphere of Sith Philosophy and the Inquisitor of Inquisitors.

And now he was dead.  Zenziri thought she had heard the challenger's name, before his accession to become Darth Imperius, was Lord Tarssus Kallig.

_Tarssus._

Surely that was no coincidence.  The Tarssus she'd known had no last name when she met him two years ago--he'd been a bewildered young human acolyte, a former slave taken by the Academy only having just become a man the year before.  His Overseer, Harkun, had despised him for his low origins and sought his death, paying only the barest lip service to his instruction, hoping Tarssus would founder and soon meet his end, preferably out in the tombs of the ancient Sith Lords, where Overseer Harkun needn't fear accusations of direct responsibility.

Tarssus had sought refuge in the Academy cantina one night--not an uncommon strategy, for acolytes weren't supposed to murder each other in the presence of witnesses.  She'd seen that desperate, hunted look plenty of times amongst the Academy's students, before they either turned into monstrous beasts of men and women, or they perished, so it hadn't exactly stood out to her as she'd scanned the audience that night.  She hadn't seen anything predatory in his eyes--anything to suggest he might aim to make himself one of her "clients" later in the night.  Some of her clients paid...others figured themselves entitled to the goods.  As for the former--at least her master didn't have to know about the pay she received.  And she was only days away from buying her freedom.  She'd actually had the funds for a year now...in part thanks to Tarssus.  But she'd had no assurances her master would be an honorable man and honor the transaction.

Until now.

When Tarssus had approached her that night, she'd figured he was one of those looking for escape from his anguish in the pleasures of the body.  In her world, at least, that was the only thing that could account for one of the Sith Lords to be actually taking notice of her.  But what he'd truly wanted...she'd asked him to repeat himself, sure the combination of loud music and the beatings from her master had finally cost her her hearing.  But she'd heard right.  What he'd wanted...was to learn the art of the dance.  The footwork and coordination his combat instructors barely taught him--he'd seen their like in her, and he sought any advantage he could gain.  And he would pay, as well as an acolyte could manage.

He'd told her where he was from--from the slave pens of Dromund Fels.  That was when she saw her like in him, even though he'd found the Force, and she hadn't, and realized he truly meant no harm.

So she'd taken him on as her unofficial "student" during his term at the Academy, watching him grow in his art, even to the point where she'd felt comfortable enough in his presence to watch him demonstrate his combat forms without the terror that he'd destroy her, even when lightning would dance across his body as he moved.  He'd been right about the kinship between the martial arts and dance, and eventually, perhaps with the help of the Force, the student surpassed the instructor.  But he'd never forgotten who helped him to unlock those abilities.  And he'd kept his word to pay her as much as he could.

Now...she caught a glimpse of the ascendant Dark Councillor making his way to the shuttleport, his entourage surrounding him on all sides.  But even the fleeting glimpses she managed to catch of Darth Imperius confirmed who he was.  She didn't even have to see his hair, his eyes, his face...just the way he _moved_ was enough to confirm it: his back straight, his chin level, his steps long and graceful.

Tarssus, the terrified young acolyte, had become Darth Imperius, Councillor of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge.

Was there still something of Tarssus in him today?  Had he allowed his identity to be destroyed as Thanaton had?  She couldn't be sure, of course...but one thing readily stood out to her.  Not one of the aliens with him--not the Dashade, not the Kaleesh, not the Togruta--bowed and scraped in his presence.  He did not order them to display their subservience as evidence of his power.  Rather, _this_ display, if it could be said to one, suggested quite a different sort of power.  _Take a shot at any one of these, and you face_ all _of us._

With that, Zenziri made up her mind.  She was ready to attempt to buy her freedom--for she now knew that one of the Dark Council might not take so kindly to treachery towards one who had helped him along the way.

 

*****

 

Major Zima Sarnova never went a day without remembering that horrible, horrible night almost two years ago at Lord Grathan's compound.  Over the course of the prior week she'd sent multiple fireteams into the rebel Sith Lord's territory.  Their mission had been to soften up the compound's defenses in preparation for a full-on assault.  Each group had gone in--then stopped reporting back.  None returned.

A Sith apprentice had happened upon the scene--on his own mission, apparently, to appropriate some sort of equipment from Grathan.  The young man, who went solely by the name of Tarssus, had sought intelligence on what sorts of threats to expect when he penetrated the compound's security...but all Sarnova--a captain then--had had to offer was the horrid mystery of her soldiers' disappearance.

She'd made an entreaty then--one she half thought herself crazy for even raising to a member of the Sith Order.  They ruled over people like her and her soldiers...they had access to powers she couldn't even imagine.  One fully-trained Sith Lord had the strength of an entire platoon or more.  Even a newly-minted apprentice like this one seemed to be very likely had the power of _all_ of the fireteams she'd sent in there combined.  How could one expect them to do anything _but_ lead those who, by their lesser power, were destined to follow?  Surely even a Sith in training would not condescend to help her to discover the fate of her people while he hunted whatever tech he was after...?  Maybe he would strike her down for her impudence.  But at least she would die knowing she'd tried everything she could for the boys and girls she'd sent into Lord Grathan's hellhole.

To her surprise, the apprentice Tarssus hadn't needed even a second's convincing.  It was as if he hadn't even _considered_ the idea of refusing such a request.  _Of course_ , he'd replied, and set about on his way.  So strange, in dealing with a Sith: she'd learnt to be a good judge of character on the front lines--and she could see it in the set of his jaw.  He was utterly committed.

Waiting for Tarssus to return had seemed like the worst possible torture during those critical hours.  Would he find the truth?  Would he bring her people out alive and well?  Might he even end Lord Grathan himself?

She had never been _so bloody wrong_ in her entire life.

Tarssus had returned alone.  He moved stiffly, his eyes staring somewhere far, far past her, seemingly his entire will fixated on holding his features still.  The scent of char wafted from him when he drew closer.  And by the Emperor's immortal power, he was _so devastatingly pale_.  Not as the Sith often were when their dreadful powers overtook their bodies.  No...then-Captain Sarnova knew _that_ look all too well.  Seeing it on a Sith, of all people, made it even worse.

On that, she had never been _so bloody right_ in her entire life.

Tarssus had motioned for her to step around the corner, where a wall would shield both of them from prying eyes.  Feeling a strange lack of hesitation at the idea of being alone with a Sith, she'd followed.

_I am so sorry, Captain._   Then Tarssus had done the unthinkable.  He had reached out to grasp her hands within his own.  The fingertips were cold in the miserable, rainy chill of the Dromund Kaas night.  More so from what Tarssus had beheld.  But the gesture itself...she'd always been taught this sort of warmth from a Sith was impossible, even when they first graduated their Academy.  

He'd fixed mournful, deep blue eyes upon hers.  And he told her what Lord Grathan had done.  How he had _vivisected_ her soldiers, converting them into biomechanical atrocities enslaved to the droid brains they'd been grafted to.  How one of them had found some spark of humanity left in him to plead to Tarssus for mercy.  How he had given them release in the only way he could.  _I immobilized each one through the Force.  And I clove each of them in two with my lightsaber...I ended them as swiftly as I could.  And_ , he had reported, his eyes finally igniting with rage, _I destroyed_ every bloody shred _of that bastard's equipment I could get my lightning on!_

Just as quickly, the rage gave way to revulsion.  To--bloody hell, she was actually thinking this of a _Sith_ \--to grief.

_I'm sorry_ , he'd said again as he released her hands.

Now, as she stood in the company mess and watched the news of Darth Thanaton's fall, the image of his successor, Darth Imperius, appeared.  Her water glass slipped to the floor and shattered, at the shock of it.  She was back _there_ again.  Back at Grathan's compound.  And he was delivering the news--

She shook her head.  No.  No.  Grathan was dead now.  The man who became the Emperor's Wrath had dealt the deathblow not long after Tarssus came.  He was dead.  Tarssus had made sure his legacy died too...

" _We are the guardians of ancient Sith knowledge_ ," Ta--no, _Imperius_ was saying on the holo.  " _And through this, we become defenders of the Empire above all else._ "

Even in the holoimage, she could tell, as she scrutinized his eyes.  In just a few years, those eyes had become so much _older_.  Lord Grathan's atrocities had been far from the last the one now named Imperius had beheld.  It weighed upon him.  And it was _because_ it did not all settle well with him that she knew.  Somehow, the man's humanity had not become another casualty of the Sith.  He guarded knowledge, yes.  But...unlike Arctis, Thanaton, and so many others...perhaps he, unlike Grathan, had the wisdom to use it well.  

Nothing would erase the suffering her people had faced.  But if he remembered...then maybe at least _some_ corners of the Empire might find a bit of respite, even if she herself could not.

 

*****

  
_Well, I'll be damned_ , scientist Iannos Tyrek thought to himself as he watched the news.

Dr. Tyrek might have defected from the Sith Empire to the Republic, but he still had a keen interest in the place where he'd been born and grown up.  Things could have been a lot worse for him back in the Empire, he knew.  He could have been a slave.  He could have been nonhuman.  In the Empire's book those were just about one and the same.  He could have lived a life of poverty.  No doubt, he'd been fairly fortunate as a scientist in the employ of the Empire, in that he never had to worry about there being enough food to eat or a roof over his head.  

But practicing _science_ in the Empire was about the worst thing he could have ever imagined.  As far as the Sith Empire was concerned, no development was of any use unless it could be weaponized--the more gruesome and deadly, the better.  It had weighed horribly on him the whole time: anything he did might be used to kill innocent citizens in the Republic.  Or the Empire.  Neither the Sith Order, nor the Imperial military, had any policies or even any qualms about that, most of the time.

So he'd defected to the Republic, where he'd heard there was at least some chance of working in a truly peaceful capacity, and exploration and discovery for its own sake actually meant something.

Then the Sith apprentice Tarssus Kallig had appeared, and urged him to _go back_.  To help him with a personal mission as arcane as anything the Sith Order had ever come up with.  Not even young Kallig himself had been certain what the artifact he sought was intended to do, only that his master had insisted he find it.

Helping Kallig was the _last_ thing Dr. Tyrek had wanted to do.  But he knew very well he stood no chance in defeating a Sith.  Kallig had offered a promise: that he'd find a way for Tyrek to return to the Republic afterwards.  The scientist, of course, hadn't believed a word of it, but figured going along with whatever game the young Sith was playing might buy him some time.

Creating the serum Kallig had needed to endure the toxins where he was headed had been a strange process.  Not just because he'd been "repatriated," the young Sith vouching for his loyalty and discouraging possible Imperial agents from coming near.  No...the strangest thing had been the wide-eyed curiosity Tarssus Kallig had displayed about every piece of equipment, every step of the process.  Kallig had _some_ idea of the sciences, Dr. Tyrek had deduced from his questions, though that base knowledge seemed very much on the inorganic side of things, particularly the properties of metals.

It should have irritated the living hell out of Dr. Tyrek, trying to work in that hateful place with the constant pestering of a Sith apprentice in his ear practically every time he made a move.  But there had been something surprisingly _earnest_ about the young man's tone and expression...something that reminded him of _himself_ as a student, back before the illusion had shattered and he'd learn what serving the Empire through science really meant.  Dr. Tyrek had found himself almost _enjoying_ teaching the young Sith.

At one point, Kallig had started asking him about some of the other pieces of equipment lying around the Imperial lab...what they did, how they worked.  Dr. Tyrek had finally let his annoyance show.  These things were so far out of his area of expertise--how the hell should a biochemist be expected to know exactly how an experimental personal stealth belt worked?

He'd finished the work Kallig had brought him back to the Empire for.  Then the Sith apprentice took the vial of serum and up and _left_.  Well, he _had_ said one thing on the way out: _Safe travels, my friend._

Dr. Tyrek had fumed.  He was sure Kallig had been mocking him--after all, the Sith apprentice couldn't possibly have meant to keep his promise, and the fact that Tyrek had even begun to feel the faintest glimmer of hope that he might...

...except that the young Sith had been demanding to learn every detail of the inner workings of a _personal stealth belt_.

The realization had almost knocked the breath out of Iannos Tyrek.  Kallig would not incriminate himself by doing something so obvious as shuttling him back across Imperial lines...even a Sith couldn't expect to pull such a brazen stunt without risking death for treason.  Dr. Tyrek had known _that_ practically since birth.  But young Kallig had shown him the way.  He _had_ made good on his promise.

When Dr. Tyrek made it back to the Republic, he'd told the Strategic Information Service agents about Kallig.  About his belief that the Sith apprentice had deliberately, albeit indirectly, let him go.  They hadn't believed it--Captive's Syndrome, they called it.

But now, as the news announced the rise of Darth Imperius, once Lord Tarssus Kallig, to the Dark Council, Iannos Tyrek saw that familiar visage on the holoscreen.  And he _still_ felt that deep certainty: that he _knew_ the truth of the matter. 

What that meant for the home he'd left behind, though...it was too much to allow himself to hope.

 

*****

 

The holocom chimed with a very distinctive--no, _singular_ tone: the one Rylee Dray had set up for Tarssus Kallig, Sith Lord, Great Healer, and metalsmith, and the one who had freed the Cult of the Screaming Blade from the control of that hedonistic tyrant Lord Palladius.

Rylee's finger trembled over the 'accept' button.  One way or the other she was going to learn the outcome of the _Kaggath_ \--the challenge to the death that Darth Thanaton had broadcast all over the HoloNet in a bid to end his opponent once and for all.  The Cult had helped Lord Kallig, of course, procuring the unique chip that Moff, Pyron, had required to complete his fleet-killer superweapon.  That gesture had gained Lord Kallig Pyron's support.  But had it been enough?

A chill ran down her spine--no, through her arms, legs, her entire body.  Was it Lord Kallig?  Or was it Darth Thanaton calling on Lord Kallig's frequency to inform them that he was availing himself of the resources of the Cult, starting his rule with the execution of its senior members?

The chime didn't stop.  Time to face the music.

She switched on the holocom--and immediately breathed a sigh of relief.  Even before the figure fully took shape, she knew by the silhouette of his armorless robes and the slight unruliness of the hair that it was Lord Kallig.

"Congratulations!" she started to say, as the exact same word emerged from the young Sith Lord's mouth.

They both stopped.  A tiny, exhausted grin formed on Lord Kallig's face.  Rylee couldn't help herself.  "I know what I'm congratulating _you_ for," she said, "surviving the _Kaggath_ and all.  But why would you be congratulating _me_ , my lord?"

" _Because this_ Kaggath _was not Sith Lord versus Sith Lord--not_ only _that.  It was power base versus power base...and you, Destris, and your people were a key part in our victory.  As such..._ "  And here Lord Kallig's smile broadened into a full grin.  " _Congratulations and thanks are_ very _much in order._ "

Rylee bowed her head.  "I very much appreciate that, my lord, and I'll be sure to pass that along to Destris and everyone else." 

" _I should also mention..._ "  Lord Kallig glanced away for a moment, composing himself.  Damn...to think that once, she could barely keep herself together around him, and now it was _he_ who hesitated before _her_.  " _Defeating Thanaton came with his seat on the Dark Council.  I have been renamed Darth Imperius.  The commune will be expected to change all references effective immediately._ "

"I--uh..."  She'd been about to say, _I understand_.  Then she realized she really didn't.  Rylee well remembered what the relics of his ancient ancestor, Aloysius Kallig, had meant to him.  The young Sith had revealed to her and Destris a few months after defeating Palladius, that he had been born a slave without a surname or a past other than the father who raised him.  Even now he still carried the ancient Kallig's saber and wore the diadem she'd watched him forge from the old warlord's battle mask.  The name he'd gained for himself...the one that belonged to him and his lineage had been replaced in the blink of an eye.  Just like that.  There wasn't anything particularly special in Rylee Dray's name...other than that it was _hers_.  She hadn't given a thought to changing it on her own.  And from what Ka-- _Imperius_ had said, he had not made this choice for himself.  It had been foisted upon him.  A victor's prize, to be sure...but a burdensome one.  "I'll see to it right away," she replied simply.

Imperius nodded, clearly not wishing to say any more.

"My lord, may I ask a question?"

" _Of course_."  That certainly hadn't been a given with Palladius, the way his successor treated it.  At least it seemed that whatever name their current leader went by, that aspect of his character hadn't changed a bit.

"Well, really it's a couple questions.  First off...how's your crew?  Did everybody make it?"  As soon as it was out, she almost wanted to kick herself.  She'd met them all at the start of Thanaton's Kaggath when they'd come to collect the chip from the Cult's industrial arm. 

While she had the sense the Sith Lord hadn't had strong ties to all of them, it _had_ been abundantly clear there was something between him and Ashara Zavros, his Togruta apprentice.  Rylee hadn't been sure how she felt about that at first, considering what _she_ had once aspired to.  But as she'd spent a little time around Ashara, it had become clear she was pretty fly for a Dark Jedi.  And she'd told Imperius that, in those exact words.  Ashara had scowled for a second--but a laugh from Imperius' other side lifted everyone's spirits just in time.  That had been the archaeologist Talos Drellik, who...well, Ashara wasn't exactly sure what sort of dynamic was in play there, only that he seemed to _fit in_ around Imperius in his own way, as if he'd been there from the start.

Surely she could have been more delicate about her question, just in case one of them had died...

Fortunately, Imperius' face lit up with a smile.  " _Yes, Rylee.  Everyone aboard the_ Fury _lived._ "

"Oh, good."  Rylee breathed a sigh of relief.  Thank goodness...so she _hadn't_ stepped in it with the young Sith.  Then again, part of her commented, she'd stepped in far worse with him not long after they'd first met, and they'd weathered that, hadn't they?  "That's really good to hear.  So...now that you're on the Dark Council, what happens here with us?  With the Cult?"

" _I won't be able to come for at least the first month_ ," he warned.  " _But this_ will _certainly raise your profile very rapidly.  You mustn't breathe a single word of this to Destris, as I wish to inform him face-to-face...but it is time for you to join him as co-leader of the commune's operations.  You have come a long way, Rylee, from the person you were then.  I believe you are now ready for this._ "

"I...um...wow!"  She straightened her shoulders, looking Darth Imperius straight in the eyes.  "Thank you very much, my lord.  I promise you that when the time comes, I will not abuse my authority."

Imperius nodded.  " _I have_ always _trusted you in that regard.  I was simply waiting for_ you _to trust_ yourself."

How far things had come in the past year and a half--from Lord Palladius who had sought to grind every single spark of independent thought out of his followers, to Darth Imperius, Dark Councillor, who had genuinely wished for her to trust _herself_.  It was all she could do not to cry right then and there at the _immensity_ of this moment.  When she bowed, as one did before a member of the Dark Council, it was just as much to hide how overwhelmed she was, as it was to demonstrate her respect.

" _Please, rise_ ," Imperius encouraged her.  Then he added one more thing.  " _There is another matter--and on this, do feel free to speak to Destris right away.  I would like us to begin considering a name change for the commune itself, something to reflect the new thing we have evolved into.  We shan't put the idea to the group immediately, mind you, as this sort of thing requires time.  But when we do, this name shall be of_ our _choosing, together._ "

All she could think for that was, _wow_.  Whatever her future was from now on, she would have a central role in guiding it on the way.  And that, in ways she had once never dared to imagine, meant everything.

 

*****

 

It was all Stanel Andaren Thul of Alderaan could do not to pump his fist into the air and cheer at the news that had reached his world: Tarssus Kallig, whom he had met during his apprenticeship, was not only a full-fledged Sith Lord now, but sat on the Dark Council itself as Darth Imperius.

Stanel would have to contain his celebration until he was behind closed doors.  But that was among the many sacrifices he made for the sake of his daughter.  Even now, a year and a half after the man on the holonews had saved Daria from the Killik hive, he still had to watch his reactions when she might be around.  Daria had come a long way since then--beginning to refer to herself as an individual once more.  And the experimental membrosilone treatments the Sith had helped get the family access to seemed to be keeping her physical cravings to the Killik gel from resurfacing.

But for all the progress Daria had made, there was still more--far more--left to go.  Daria still experienced great difficulty with asserting her own wants and needs.  Her desperate attempts to escape to the Killik hives had been replaced with a much more passive drifting along through life.  Even simple decisions often remained perplexing to her without the guidance of someone else to take her through the long process of eliciting her own preferences.  And there _was_ one preference she most definitely still had: that no one speak ill of the Killiks before her.

Some had questioned Stanel as to whether it had been worth all this suffering for her and the entire family.  Whether the kinder thing to do would have been to leave her amongst the Killik Joiners.  Serjay Thul, the first Sith Lord of their House, had wondered whether the more merciful thing would have been for Kallig to simply strike her down.

_Now_ , though...Stanel was very much looking forward to giving Serjay a call.  He headed into his private study, shut the door and activated the soundproofing system, then dialed.

When Serjay appeared on the holocomm, Stanel scanned his features as he always did.  The Force still had not altered his features as it had Serjay's master Darth Victus, and his smile looked genuine enough when he saw Stanel.

"My lord," Stanel greeted him, just to be on the safe side.

Serjay's smile broadened.  " _Always good to hear from you, cousin.  How have you and Daria been holding up?_ "

"As well as can be expected," Stanel replied.  That was the other thing about Serjay: unlike what Stanel had heard the Jedi did on their part of Alderaan, the Sith Order had not compelled Serjay to break his connections to his world and his House.  It _happened_ amongst the Sith--that was certain--but it was far from _mandatory_.  Though Serjay was still young yet...roughly the same age as Darth Imperius, in fact...Stanel still had hopes that connection would help Serjay maintain his grip on his powers.  "Though I must be very circumspect about my reason for calling.  You've heard the news of Darth Imperius, I expect?"

" _The new Councillor of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge, yes._ "  Serjay nodded.  " _I did not attend the Academy with him, nor do I have any personal knowledge of him, if that's what your asking._ "

"Actually," Stanel clarified, " _I_ have personal knowledge of him.  Darth Imperius' name before his accession was Tarssus Kallig."

Serjay's eyes widened with comprehension.  " _Ahhhh, yes.  The one who brought Daria back to you.  As you know, I serve the Sphere of Diplomacy and Expansion.  Darth Ravage has already made it clear he has no fondness for Imperius._ "

"Oh...I see," Stanel replied, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.

" _But..._ "  Serjay grew thoughtful.  " _Ravage was also the one who spearheaded that abominable treaty with the Killiks, over Viktus' and my shared objections._ "

"Did he."  Stanel crossed his arms.  "Well, then.  You shall be quite interested to know, no doubt, that Darth Imperius does not share Ravage's views where the Killiks are concerned.  He has seen firsthand, m'lord.  He _knows_ what the Killiks do, and he despises it every bit as much as you.  He has continued all this time since Daria, ensuring Imperial priority here on Alderaan is given to the repatriation and treatment of former Joiners.  He may be willing to provide you an...alternate voice on the Council, so to speak, if the Killiks violate their treaty.  The concept of Joining offends him so greatly that I believe he'd be ready to go for more than just open war.  I don't think he's the sort to lash out without hard evidence, or to treat it as blood sport, but..."

" _You believe he'd be willing to drive them off Alderaan or eliminate them altogether_ ," Lord Serjay concluded.  " _My allies on Alderaan will be pleased to hear this.  Imagine, an Alderaan where we can live free of the threat of having our minds stolen from us, not just when the Killiks would be hibernating, but _all_ the time!  Imagine the sort of support our House could gain--perhaps even on the Republic side as well.  The Jedi and the Republic are gutless; they see our people being made into mind-slaves as an acceptable price for keeping up their appearance of clean hands.  It could be a united Alderaan I rule over someday, on behalf of our House.  The sooner I can bring that time--_"

Stanel held up a hand in warning.  "Please be careful, m'lord.  When I've dealt with Darth Imperius, I've gained a _very_ strong impression he is not the sort to appreciate 'manufactured evidence.'  He tests the truth very thoroughly.  I don't imagine he'd care for it if someone tried to manipulate him.  I may not have the Force but we _do_ very much have politics on this world.  And it is my strongest, but most respectful advice that you do not attempt to instigate or fabricate _any_ sort of confrontation with the Killiks.  If you do, you might well manage to get Ravage and Imperius to agree on something...namely the idea that _you_ are a threat.  Even with Imperius' regard for my branch of this House, I highly doubt I could shield you from that."

" _I will bear that in mind_ ," Serjay replied.  " _I suppose for now, we can at least be grateful for our good fortune, that we can at least know that Imperius will keep our people's interests at heart.  Long live the Sith Empire, Stanel.  And long may our House serve._ "

"Long live the Empire, indeed."

 

*****

 

Mila Escalus couldn't help staring at the still holoimage of the newest Dark Councillor, Darth Imperius.  Or more precisely, at the lightsaber he carried at his side.  She almost hadn't recognized it at first--a series of engravings ran around the hilt that hadn't been there before, but the closer she looked, there was no mistaking it.  This was the saber that could have ended her life--but had instead returned it to her.

She had been terrified the soon-to-be Sith Lord would strike her down for not being in possession of the ancestral Kallig saber.  That _was_ what the Sith did, wasn't it?

Her father, that miserable cur, had gambled it away along with everything else the family had ever owned, and left her stuck with all his debts and indentured into servitude to that scumbag Gyl Rosen for so long that she'd almost wondered when the frustration flashed in Tarssus Kallig's eyes at hearing she didn't have the saber, if it might not be better for her if he slew her on the spot.  Yet some shred of self-preservation kicked in, and she'd pled for mercy, even to go and get the saber back herself.  Somehow.

The _last_ thing she'd expected was to be met with a faint, sympathetic smile, and the reassuring words: _It's nothing I can't handle.  Simply point me in the right direction._

_What?  I mean...sorry, m'lord...you mean you're not going to kill me?_

Kallig had shook his head--not simply negation, but disapproval.  To Mila's astonishment, the disapproval was not for her.  _Your_ own father _put the blood of his blood into this state..._   It was as if the Sith, of all people, couldn't fathom the idea of such a personal form of treason.  Half to himself, he'd muttered, _At least Lord Aloysius had the wherewithal to actually feel_ sorry _for what he'd done to the Kallig line...!  Rest assured_ , he'd finished before she had the chance to think too deeply about the fact that Kallig had half sounded as though he had been speaking to the millennia-dead Aloysius Kallig himself, _you shall not pay for_ his _sins._

Mila had almost passed out from the shock.  And the indescribably immense sense of _relief_.  The moment she'd feared ever since the Kallig saber disappeared had come--and gone without even so much as a _raised voice_ from the ancient Sith's descendant.  Though she shouldn't have cared to be in her father's place, had _he_ been alive... _that_ much was for sure.

When he'd returned with the saber case in had, she couldn't help asking if he'd given Rosen a taste of his own medicine.  The young Sith had been a touch elusive as to what exactly had transpired, but the _intent_ of his message was unmistakable.  _I drove a rather hard bargain_ , he'd replied.  Then he'd smiled--a full, unreserved smile this time.  _Not only do I have my saber...but your debts are cleared.  All of them.  Rosen will not trouble you again._

If it hadn't been for the fact that hugging a Sith was probably a quick way to get killed, she would have done it right then and there.  Now, reading the holonews from an apartment on a level of Nar Shaddaa where she could actually see the sky instead of the underside of the next level up...

She knew it was silly--childish, even--but she didn't care.  No one was in the apartment with her to see, so she did it anyway.  Mila Escalus reached out to the holoimage of the newly-named Darth Imperius, as if she could set a hand on his shoulder in thanks, and to tell him that she would continue to make the best of the second chance he had given her.

 

*****

 

Madyu'dras'sarro--known only to himself by that name in the Sith Empire, to everyone else as Yudrass--caught himself standing to attention as he watched the holobroadcast of the latest accession to the Dark Council.

The turnover on the Council had been happening more and more lately, with a shocking amount of it coming in the wake of the Battle for Corellia.  That these troglodytes would waste their time, energy, and resources on that sort of petty infighting rather than serving the interests of their Empire--it was pathetic, to say the least.  That said, the Empire was powerful, and had every chance of eventually overrunning the complacent hodgepodge that was the Galactic Republic, which was why the Chiss Ascendancy had struck a deal with the Empire.

Captain Yudrass served the Sith Empire not out of any sense of personal loyalty to the bloodthirsty Order, but because his superiors in the Ascendancy had commanded it.  He was to live amongst the foreign savages for as long as his people demanded--which had the potential to be his entire lifetime, so far as he knew.  Certain individuals had to be cut from communion with Chiss society for the good of their entire people...just enough to give the appearance that their people might submit to the Empire someday, though barring the worst case scenario, that would prove to be _only_ a dream for the Empire, with the true Ascendancy always remaining far out of reach.

Living outside of Chiss society was hell for any Chiss; no other society had ever achieved the degree of perfection that the Chiss had, and the reminders were everywhere, no matter where one might travel in the galaxy.  But the Sith Empire?  The Sith Purebloods and the humans thought _themselves_ to be the master species of the galaxy.  The humans' claims were laughable to say the very least, considering that everything they prided themselves in, the Chiss could always do better.  They might have the occasional exceptional individual, but that was it. The Sith Purebloods had more of a claim, perhaps, given the ubiquity of their Force sensitivity, but the savagery of the Empire that bore their name proved otherwise.  Power was nothing if one shamelessly squandered it.  And _they_ thought to look down on _him_ , when _he_ was the one capable of behaving like a civilized being in a place and with people whom he mostly disdained and they most assuredly were not even with those _like_ them.

The moment the newest Dark Councillor had come into sight on the holobroadcast, however...that had shocked Captain Yudrass into a display of military obeisance he had _never_ imagined he would have willingly done with no one watching to ensure he did it.  The ascendant Councillor was human--unsurprising--but his _identity_...it was Lord Kallig.  _That_ very much _was_ surprising.

Every species did have its exceptional individuals.  And it was exactly _because_ of that, that Yudrass had never imagined Lord Kallig would make it this far, in an Empire and Order that valued such backwards things.  When Captain Yudrass had met Tarssus Kallig, it was clear the young Sith Lord was one of them.  Lord Kallig was not wantonly cruel.  He questioned, he _thought_ about what he was going to do before he did it, and he acted in the best interests of _all_ Imperial units on Hoth, not just for his own self-aggrandizement.  He hadn't even had to get involved in their mission...and to actually do so _effectively_ , with concern for his objective and the others involved in achieving it...that had been completely unexpected to Yudrass.

But that hadn't been the biggest surprise.  _That_ had been when Yudrass' Imperial commanding officer had claimed credit for the strategy Yudrass had been the one to create...a lie everyone in the Empire would have readily believed, for they did not comprehend just how outclassed they really were by the Chiss.  Lord Kallig, however, had cut in on the conversation and--much to that windbag's consternation--told _exactly_ where the winning strategy had come from.  The Sith Lord hadn't even tried to seize the credit for himself.  He'd instead given it exactly where it was due, without a thought.

That had been the thing about Lord Kallig.  It was as if he did not recognize that the fallen Togruta Jedi he'd brought with him for part of his mission were any different from him.  Or Yudrass.  He did not simply refuse to make ridiculous claims of human superiority.  It was as if he were blind to the entire concept.

For his part, Yudrass had just been notified a week ago he would soon be receiving a promotion.  Lord Kallig had most definitely had a hand in ensuring Yudrass got what his work had earned him.  But a week ago, Yudrass had figured Kallig's strange species blindness would, along with the other aspects of his temperament that were so odd for a Sith Lord, would do him in before he could get any further than the position he had already attained.

Apparently Lord Kallig, now Darth Imperius, was not done with surprises.  

Despite himself, Yudrass felt the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

 

*****

 

Hadrik, formerly Shaman to his tribe, had finally reached the stars thanks to Lord Tarssus Kallig.

And, the Gormak man couldn't help noting, his homeworld hadn't ended in a burst of fire and brimstone the way the Voss Mystics had insisted it would if one of his people ever left their world and its ridiculous, neverending war.

Not that battle was an evil thing--it was worthy to fight, and fight _hard_ to survive.  But an impossible, perpetual war...a war in which the combatants no longer even remembered the _reasons_ they were fighting except for the sake of wiping each other out...that was pointless, and Hadrik had desperately wanted to get away.  And then there was the fact that Gormak with the ability to touch the Force were shunned among his people, for having the gift that had ripped their people asunder.  Out in the greater galaxy, Lord Kallig had assured him, there were many people who truly _respected_ those who had such abilities.

As for Hadrik, he far preferred the brash honesty of the Sith, compared to the other great Order, that of the Jedi.  Oh, they could be treacherous--that much was certain--but they did not pretend to be otherwise.  The Jedi had come long ago to Voss and with them their war against the Sith Empire, claiming wisdom...but they had not been wise enough to see that unleashing their philosophy of the Force upon the Gormak would lead to the twisting of some of their race into the Voss species, and a permanent state of civil war on their world.  _They are desperately afraid that one day, they will wake up and see_ themselves _in the mirror_ , Kallig had explained.  _That is what drives the Voss.  Even though they no longer remember it,_ everything _they do is centered around that, obliterating the memory of having come from you, the Gormak._

Lord Kallig had been truthful: the Jedi had not _meant_ for any of it to happen...not the warping of the Force-sensitive Gormak into the Voss, nor the blighting of the land that had come later.  For _that_ , the decision of the Gormak to attack the Sith Empire had been a major part of the problem as well.

But when Hadrik had looked at the Jedi and their continued pretensions of wisdom and dispassion--the same sorts of things the Voss had followed them into--versus the Sith, who shared the hot blood and the warrior spirit of the Gormak...Hadrik had chosen the latter.  To trust the young Sith Lord, and to aid him in finding the cure for his Force-illness.

That said, the Sith Order, Kallig had warned Hadrik, would hold his species to be inferior even though the young lord himself saw matters very much otherwise and expressed the willingness to welcome him onto his crew if he wished.  But, Lord Kallig had explained, there were others out there who used the Force without belonging to either Order.  Perhaps on one of those neutral worlds, Hadrik might have the opportunity to make his own way.

That, the Voss had been utterly unable to tolerate.  That commando of theirs, Sor-Nak, had been absolutely apoplectic when Hadrik and Lord Kallig had made for the spaceport.  Damn, but it would have been almost comical if the not for the very threat of every Voss Commando in the capital city sweeping down on them both.

Though Hadrik's training in the Force was limited, he'd recognized the need to act.  Perhaps it was the four spirits Lord Kallig had bound to himself--the very ones that had nearly driven the man out of his mind until Hadrik helped restore his control--but what needed doing, Hadrik knew he was the only one of the two capable of doing it.  He'd reached through the Force into Sor-Nak's mind, 'reassuring' the Voss commando that he'd merely dreamt the night before of a Gormak leaving the planet--just a meaningless night terror, nothing with the power of a true vision.

_I don't believe in visions_ , Lord Kallig had snarked as soon as Hadrik had boarded the _Fury_.  _Especially not that nonsense that your departure will somehow destroy their world.  I have your assurance you won't try such nonsense, I should hope?_

Hadrik had snorted.  _I want nothing more to do with that place.  Not even any reason to_ mention _it to anyone._

_Good.  My former master made the mistake of chasing after visions, and it sealed her doom.  As long as_ you _shape your own future without living in fear as they do_ , Lord Kallig had assured him, _then I see no reason to speak of their mad prophecy any further._

Hadrik had not stayed long aboard the _Fury_.  Instead, he studied now with the Matukai, a tiny but worthy order of Force-warriors who trained their body as keenly as any Gormak.  Here at last, he had found purpose, peace, and passion.

As for Lord Kallig... _he_ had now become Darth Imperius, one of the rulers of the Sith Empire.  At that, Hadrik gave a smile.  The young man deserved it, for he had followed no other vision but his own.  For where that vision had intersected with that of Hadrik, the Gormak would forever be grateful.

At the thought of the power he could have attained at the side of the newest Dark Councillor, Hadrik found he _almost_ regretted not staying with the young Sith Lord.

But only almost.

 

*****

 

"So...what is he like?" Moff Loris Chairos, head of the Imperial Reclamation Service, asked.  "And no, before you have a go at me--first, it was _abundantly_ clear he is already seeing someone already, and second, I am _very_ much a married woman.  You know the sort of question I'm really asking."

Her fellow Moff, Valion Pyron, snorted.  "Of course I know better to think you so superficial." 

Pyron glanced about him before he dared continue any further.  Even walking alone out in the park like this on a rare break between Dromund Kaas' torrential rainstorms, one could never afford to be too careful about spies.  And discussing one's candid opinions about a member of the Dark Council could be dangerous.  There _were_ still those who thought like Thanaton had--the minions of Darth Aruk and Darth Ravage, and doubtless many other remnants of Thanaton's own powerbase the newest Councillor hadn't yet had the opportunity to eliminate.

"Far more pragmatic than Darth Thanaton--that's for certain," Pyron began.  "He believes in the ways of the Sith...that much is to be expected when you're a Force-wielder, I suppose, but he hasn't let it blind him to the need for sensible strategic decisions.  He has a young man's mindset; that's for certain.  It seems tradition is only as good as the service it renders, in his mind.  Rather ironic considering the Sphere he's ascended to, but it really appears as though the Empire is first for him--his traditions second to that."

Moff Chairos nodded.  "So you think he may have actually been sincere with what he said in his accession speech--about frank exchange of ideas, having a care for the safety of the ordinary Reclamation Service personnel, and so on?  I should certainly like to _hope_ so," she groused.  "That debacle in the Dark Temple was far from the first fool's errand Thanaton ordered me to throw my people into.  It's all well and good to do our job as archaeologists and unearth our past, but I have rather tired of my people being treated as chew toys for this or that booby trap, or Force ghost, or...whatever else...happens to be having a bad day."

It wasn't hard for Moff Pyron to read between the lines.  'Whatever else' surely meant 'temperamental Sith Lord.'  "There's a reason I chose to back Imperius over Thanaton," Pyron stated with conviction.  "You know what a gamble that was.  If I'd failed, I'd have been branded a traitor and died shortly after the end of that bloody _Ka-plop_ or whatever the hell that was Thanaton was on about."

" _Kaggath_ ," the head of the Reclamation Service corrected as if by automatic reflex.

" _Ker-pow_ ," Moff Pyron shot back smugly.

Chairos arched a silver eyebrow but otherwise pointedly ignored his retort.  "I'm well aware of the risk you took," she noted.  "What I wish to understand is _why_.  I cannot imagine his restoring the development on your fleet-killer was the whole story.  What was it about him--and for that matter, what ought I to look for as _I_ set about working with him?"

"To begin with," Pyron replied, "he has always got his nose into everything.  Which is not a bad thing--it's rather startling actually being _listened_ to by a Sith Lord.  He always wants to know _why_ anything is being done...how it works...what alternatives we've considered--generally _everything_.  And he always wants to know what the bottom line for the Empire is.  Don't be evasive with him.  That was the only time he ever got cross with me; he doesn't care for it when people try to dance around his sensibilities--"

"The way one always had to with Thanaton and Arctis," Chairos interjected.

"Precisely," confirmed Pyron.  "He's not the sort to play decapitate-the-messenger.  Don't mistake me--he _does_ have his passions.  But he strongly prefers _Republic_ targets to exercise them on.  And bloody fools like Thanaton who might as well _be_ the Republic for all the time and precious blood they waste cutting us apart from within.  You should have heard him curse Thanaton on Corellia when the Republic would break through and lay into our boys.  I've never been so _pleased_ to see a Sith Lord lay waste to someone as I was watching Imperius put eight million volts into that man."

A sly grin curled its way across Moff Chairos' lips.  "If he holds true to that now that _he's_ on the Council," she mused, "then it certainly sounds like I could be in for a rather refreshing upgrade on the working conditions."

"I'd certainly say," Pyron replied with a smirk of his own.  "Oh...and you _did_ notice the Dark Lord happens to have old Archivauld's son in his inner entourage?"

"Oh, yes, Talos Drellik," Chairos supplied.  "He made quite the legend for himself in the Service, though I doubt the chap really had any sense of it for himself.  He was always a bit of eccentric--never cared a whit for his rank, only for the expeditions he could join.  And if you ask me, anyone who actually _asks_ for assignment to Hoth has _got_ to be a few cards short of a full pazaak deck!"

Even the _thought_ brought Pyron a chill.  "Indeed!"

"I never thought I'd see the day anyone would manage to tempt Lieutenant Drellik out of the field," Chairos said.  "Always figured that one had married his work.  But he seems to have gone quite willingly, and while the Dark Lord was still an outcast, at that.  I should have _loved_ to see the look on Moff Drellik's face when he found out Talos has become a Dark Councillor's right-hand man.  Either way, though, I suppose it says something about Imperius that he managed _that_ on top of all his _other_ feats.  I look forward to working with Talos as well.  A new day for the Reclamation Service indeed!"

"And for the Sith Empire," Pyron finished.  "Cheers."

 

*****

 

Theron Shan played back the security camera footage that the Republic Strategic Information Service had recovered from the Battle of Corellia, of the man who had become Darth Imperius, Dark Councillor of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge. 

The Republic's intelligence arm had been forced to gather intelligence on the man very quickly--it hadn't really been until the former Councillor, Darth Thanaton, had declared a duel to the death against the young Sith Lord that the SIS had realized Thanaton was facing not merely a Force-powerful rogue in the ranks, but a serious challenger for his position.

The dossier Theron's colleagues had thrown together had revealed an interesting pattern--one that bore a striking resemblance, to his trained eye, to the one displayed by Rûmaz, the Emperor's Wrath.  Both men displayed an unusual dose of temperance for Sith Lords, and the ability to make alliances on the fly with the most unlikely of counterparts.  Each had even taken a fallen Jedi as their apprentice...though even there, when said Jedi had engaged Republic forces since then, neither had displayed the wanton excesses of bloodlust that were typical of former Jedi let loose from the restraints of the Order's code.  It was a level of temptation Theron couldn't personally understand...sure, he'd cut loose once the Jedi realized he hadn't inherited the Force sensitivity that ran in his bloodline, but then he hadn't had those massive amounts of power at his fingertips, either.

The apprentices, Zavros and Willsaam, however, still seemed balanced in the wake of their defections.  Not the way the Jedi would have approved of, for sure...but still.  And in the case of Darth Imperius--formerly Lord Tarssus Kallig--it even seemed Imperius shielded the Togruta from too many close encounters with her own people, and the Jedi Order in particular.  Those sorts of missions of late had fallen more often to an archaeologist-soldier by the name of Talos Drellik...a man who was more of a battle medic and scout than a fighter, but who at least had no qualms about considering the Galactic Republic his enemy.

Apprentice Zavros had appeared later, during the final duel between Kallig and Thanaton in the Dark Council chambers on Korriban, Theron's sources reported.  But neither she _nor_ Drellik had been present on Corellia--rather, in their place had been a dreadful Dashade assassin named Khem Val.  Sure, part of that choice was likely to try and intimidate Thanaton...the Dashadi species was known for consuming Force energy, after all.  But it almost looked as though the man who would soon be Imperius had been sparing his closest companions' sensibilities: Ashara Zavros would not have to face off against the Republic, and Talos Drellik would not have to wade into the pathetic shitshow that was Imperial killing Imperial.

From the looks of the recovered footage, it looked like Drellik wouldn't be the only one with _that_ opinion of the Empire's habits.  The interesting part started with Lord Kallig shouting at the top of his lungs at his rival: " _Just_ what _in the bloody hell is_ WRONG WITH YOU _, Thanaton, dragging our own troops into your personal temper tantrum?!_ "

Theron couldn't agree more.  Thanaton couldn't disagree less.  " _I am erasing the stain upon Sith tradition that you represent!_ " the elder Councillor rebutted in the way that could only make sense to Darth Aruk's bestie.  The head of the Sphere of Sith Philosophy would surely have approved of his counterpart's screed.  " _You're_ far _worse than the remnant of a treacherous lord_ ," Thanaton went on.  " _Oh, yes, I've done my research--you've sought to resurrect a failed line, Kallig, and you will fall in this Kaggath just as Aloysius fell in his.  There is no nobility in you--you're nothing more than the whelp of a slave-bitch, whatever you call yourself, and that's all you'll ever be!  Once wastes of the Force like you are expunged, then the Empire can truly rise_ \--"

" _Hah!_ "  Lord Kallig barely wasted a split second looking affronted before he smirked and summed it all up in terms that had Theron pounding the desk, laughing so hard tears were spilling out the corner of his eyes.  " _'Your mum's a whore and your pa stinks of bantha-shite'--is that really all you've got, Thanaton?  Can you not hear yourself right now, in the middle of a bloody_ war _while our men and women are_ dying _out there, and you're running off at the mouth with such puerile nonsense?_ "

" _If you cannot comprehend the importance of our traditions, then you have no place_ \--"

" _If_ this _is what your sort of tradition means_ ," Kallig spat back, " _then you're most welcome to shove it_ straight up your arse _where it can die with you!  If you really want to have a go, I'm right here!  Stop mucking about, you coward, and COME FIGHT ME one on one!_ "  With that Kallig jammed the comm's off switch so hard it was a wonder he didn't stab his index finger straight _through_ the thing.

Lord Kallig had brought that fight to Thanaton, and Thanaton--breaking his vaunted traditions, apparently--had fled to the Dark Council for help.  And there, Kallig had brought Thanaton to the brink of death and the Council had dealt the final, humiliating blow.  That was where Tarssus Kallig had become Darth Imperius, thus named by Darth Marr.

_That_ created an interesting dynamic for sure.  Marr, Vowrawn, and lately Acina formed a core of pragmatists on the Council that had opposed the traditionalists like Thanaton, Ravage, and Aruk wherever they could get away with it.  Marr and Vowrawn in particular commanded massive power bases, their tenure on the Council likely having every bit as much to do with their _competence_ in managing their respective Spheres of Influence, not just their ability to shut down challengers.

Now, the balance might very well be tilting.  With Imperius' power joined to the other three, _and_ quite possibly a fifth pragmatist in the Emperor's Wrath, change might well be about to come to the Sith Empire.  How much, Theron didn't dare say, for they _were_ all still Sith. 

But still...things were about to get very interesting indeed.

The game was afoot.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this piece is inspired by a verse from the Bible, Luke 23:42, when one of the thieves being crucified alongside Jesus pledges his allegiance to the Messiah and asks to be a part of His heavenly kingdom. Obviously I am well aware that Tarssus Kallig is far from being that sort of man...and Tarssus himself would be the first one to disabuse you of any such notions (in fact, his interaction with Rylee Dray and the Cult of the Screaming Blade has been one long journey of moving them away from any notions of godhead on his part). However, the verse struck me as very fitting for this piece--or really many separate pieces--showing the various lives Tarssus has affected along the way. Their reactions range from genuine affection and gratitude to blatant political scheming with various levels of morality assigned to those agendas, but the title still resonated with me regardless.


End file.
